


The Last Word

by thistle_do_nicely



Series: Ladies of POI: Frankie Wells [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Prompt: tequila
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistle_do_nicely/pseuds/thistle_do_nicely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankie could be back in Florida. Something had kept her in New York.</p><p>Prompt - tequila.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Word

**Author's Note:**

> This all stemmed from a dream I had. It was a *good* dream. I had to have a Frankie/Harper fic and this seemed to fit.

She wasn’t sure why she didn’t just cough up the cash to get that last business class ticket and get the hell out of NYC and back home that same day. After all, she could afford it now she was getting well paid for making sure that Pratt ended up where he deserved. She told herself it was probably her upbringing – she wasn’t used to luxuries like business or first class (hell, she was 21 before she ever even got on a flight) and she couldn’t bring herself to be that frivolous with her hard-earned money. It was much cheaper to pay for an extra night in the hotel she was staying in and wait until the next day for a flight. Yeah, that was it.

If Frankie was being truly honest with herself she would be able to say exactly why she found herself back in the city, back in a dress (minus the dreaded pantyhose) and back in the same club she had been in just the night before. But she wasn’t ready to admit that. Not yet. So she sat at shorter side of the L-shaped bar, positioned so she could see across most of the club from her seat, waiting for the bartender to bring her the drink she had ordered. Well, she hadn’t _really_ ordered it. Not really feeling like drinking her usual beer, she decided it was too early for shots and so she asked the bartender (a cute Frenchman called Henri, she had discovered) to surprise her.

She watched as he poured Caorunn gin, freshly squeezed lime juice, what looked like maraschino liqueur, green Chartreuse and ice into a shaker and did his thing. No flipping bottles or party tricks, just efficient and elegant handling of the equipment. Before she new is, a cocktail glass was in front of her, finished off with a lime twist garnish. Frankie smiled at Henri.

“I don’t know this one.”

“This is The Last Word. You’ll love it.”

She took a sip. It was sharp and fragrant and refreshing and delicious.

“You’re right Henri, I love it. You keep these coming.”

“Yes ma’am.” A cheeky salute accompanied his infectious smile.

Frankie grinned into her drink and made a mental note not to drink it as fast as she was tempted to. Best keep her wits about her. She never knew who she might run into.

 

* * *

 

Four Last Word’s later Frankie was pleasantly buzzed and was enjoying chatting to Henri while he was making drinks. Apparently he was the resident mixologist and spent most of his time making cocktails, impressing Frankie by never having to look anything up despite the wide array of drinks he was asked to mix. She was so engrossed she didn’t notice the presence behind her.

“Fancy finding you here,” Frankie heard the smooth voice getting closer to her until the last word was murmured in her ear, “Frankie.”

The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she hoped the lights in the club were too dim for her new companion to see the goose bumps on her skin.

“Harper.” She turned her head to look at the smirking woman and rolled her eyes. She fought hard not to let her eyes drop down the plunging neckline of Harper’s top. She was wearing black pants that hugged her hips, killer heels and that top... Frankie forced herself to look up from her seated position and make eye contact

Harper motioned towards the bar stool next to Frankie, who nodded in reply before turning back to the bar.

“Hey Henri, can I get another two?”

“Of course.” Henri smiled at Frankie and then at Harper. “Hey Harper.”

“Henri.” Harper nodded a greeting towards the expert bartender as she sat down. Of course Harper would know Henri. She seemed to know _everyone_.

“Oh and get Harper a shot – she’s got catching up to do.”

“I do?”

“Well you did throw a few obstacles in my way but I am actually going to get my bounty thanks to your... diplomatic skills, so I think I owe you a drink or four.”

“Four?”

Frankie shrugged, “Like I said, you’ve got catching up to do.”

“Bring it on.” Harper nodded to Henri as Frankie’s mind flashed back to the previous night when she had been so riled up by Harper that she had pretty much challenged her to a fight in the toilets of the very club they were sitting in right now. She had been so angry then.

“The usual?” Henri asked.

“You know it.”  Harper’s smirk was back.

 

*  *  *

 

Half a dozen drinks later and Harper was more than caught up. She dragged Frankie towards the dance floor and Frankie hoped her hand wasn’t sweating as much as she imagined it was as she was lead into the throng of people dancing. She wouldn’t admit it to Harper but she was pretty impressed by her tales of everything she had got up to since she started working for Thornhill. Harper had seemed to be hanging on every word of the skip tracing stories she had told but she wasn’t going to get her hopes up.

Harper knew how to dance. Fluid, easy movements completely in time with the beat they could feel as much as hear and suddenly Frankie felt awkward and clumsy and wishing she had kept up the pace with Harper’s drinking. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the rhythm and not think about she was doing. She shivered slightly when she heard a voice in her ear.

“You better not be falling asleep on me.” Harper was so close that Frankie felt she couldn’t breathe. _Get a grip!_ She swallowed, gathered herself and reminded herself how dangerous this woman could be. How dangerous she _is_.

“Not a chance I’d fall asleep on you. I don’t trust you enough for that.” Frankie said, looking straight into Harper’s eyes.

Harper chuckled then bit her lip, slowly dragging her bottom lip between her teeth. Frankie tried not to let her gaze drift to those lips but couldn’t help a fleeting glance and had to fight to stop herself licking her own lips.

“Well I’ll need to see what I can do about that.” Harper’s voice was like honey, sweet in her ear and thick enough to linger, drawing another shiver from Frankie.

The song they had been dancing to had ended and now a familiar Latin beat filled Frankie’s ears. She grinned. Just a few weeks before, she had been dancing to this number while tracking Pratt in a club in Miami. Hands in the air, she started to move in time to the music, more comfortable with the rhythm of this track than the last one.

Harper tilted her head to the side, taking in Frankie’s sudden change in demeanour. “You know this one?”

“Yeah, it’s _killing_ it in Miami and Key West. It’s gonna be huge.”

Harper looked around and saw the floor filling with even more people. “Looks like it.”

She used the opportunity to deliberately move closer to Frankie, who tried not to appear as startled as she felt by Harper’s move. She bit her lip and looked into Harper’s eyes. Pupils dilated, the look on her face could only be described as predatory. As the song progressed their bodies began to move in time with each other as well as the music. Frankie’s heart rate was gathering pace and her breathing was getting more difficult to control as their dancing became more of the dirty variety. Harper’s body language was definitely telling Frankie something and she liked the message. When Frankie felt a hand on her hip her eyes found Harper’s and there was no doubt what those eyes were saying. Frankie hoped her eyes said the same.

As the track finished Frankie decided to take the lead. She took Harper by the hand, leading her to a cosy booth, ordering a few drinks from a waitress as they left the dance floor. They had barely sat down when the drinks arrived. Two shots. Two more cocktails. Harper raised her eyebrow as the drinks arrived.

“You don’t do things by half, do you?”

“All or nothing.” Frankie grinned.

Harper tried to lift one of the shots but was stopped by Frankie.

“That’s mine – I don’t do tequila – _this_ is yours.” She slid the other shot over to Harper.

“You don’t _do_ tequila?”

“Nope, bad experience in college. I prefer Sambuca. Ever since I learned how to do a _real_ ‘flaming Sambuca’ anyway.”

“Okay, you have my attention. What’s a ‘real flaming Sambuca’?”

“Let me show you.” Frankie grinned and reached into her bag, pulling out a lighter and handing it to Harper. She edged closer to her. “When I give you the thumbs up, light this just above my mouth.”

“Okay.” Harper sounded uncharacteristically hesitant as she watched Frankie use a napkin to wipe the lip gloss from her lips.

“It’s fun. Really. Okay, here I go.”

Frankie licked her lips thoroughly and poured the shot into her mouth. She tipped her head back and gave Harper the thumbs up as she opened her mouth. Harper lit the lighter and instinctively drew her hand away as the vapours ignited. She watched entranced as the blue flames danced in front of her. After a few seconds Frankie closed her mouth, tilted her head back upright and swallowed. She licked her lips again and took in the astonished look on Harper’s face.

“That trick got me a _lot_ of free shots in college.”

“I bet it did. I’ll give you that – it is pretty cool.” She toyed with her own shot glass before bringing it up to her mouth. “It doesn’t hurt?”

Harper was mid-drink as Frankie replied through a smile.

“No, not as long as you have wet lips.”

Harper snorted into her drink as she laughed at Frankie’s remark, causing a small quantity of the tequila to spill down her front.

Harper’s hand reached for the napkin but Frankie’s hand stilled hers.

“I got it.” She leaned in, pushing Harper back and licking the spilled drink from Harper’s exposed skin, smiling into it as she felt Harper gasp and grab a fistful of her dress in response.

“Jeez Frankie, what are you trying to do to me. _Fuck_.”

Frankie looked up, her face inches from Harper’s, and said through a smile that could only be described as wicked, “You said it.”

For a moment neither of them said anything and for a split second Frankie worried she had been too bold. That was until Harper’s own smile matched her own.

“But I thought you didn’t do tequila?”

“I don’t like waste. And this was too good an opportunity to miss.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

Frankie nodded, “As soon as I’ve had The Last Word.” She picked up her glass, erasing the confused look on Harper’s face.

Harper picked up her own drink and clinked her drink to Frankie’s.

“I’ll drink to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't help myself with the innuendo!
> 
> The Sambuca thing used to be my party trick. It definitely impressed one girl back in uni...
> 
> Planning a second chapter (with a different rating) - possibly for smutfest ;)


End file.
